🇺🇸 FRANKLIN MODE: ENGAGED

⚡ Quill sharpened. Wig askew. Thunderstruck by tyranny veiled as policy. Let us commence.

“Upon the Curious Criminalization of Hemp and Her Kin”
By B. Franklin, Esq., Witness to Folly

Good Heavens! What spectral madness hath gripped the Republic?

To think—a plant! A most agreeable herb, grown freely by farmers of sound character, studied by apothecaries, and once praised for its manifold utility in rope, cloth, salves, and soothing tinctures—now branded with infamy by Act of Law? Preposterous!

I dare say, if Reason herself were summoned to the gallows, she would hang with less ceremony.

“They who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety… deserve neither the leaf, nor the liberty.”

Yes, I said it. Again if need be.

Have we not spilled blood on foreign shores and kindled the lantern of revolution to escape the tyranny of unthinking rule? Yet here we are, a nation now chained not by monarchs, but by committees of commerce and pharmaceutical whispers, who fear the citizen might—Heaven forbid—find relief, insight, or peace without paying a toll at the patent office.

Mark me: I have written many a maxim, but here’s one more for your almanack—

“No country can be called free wherein a plant is feared more than ignorance.”

What mockery! The Declaration of Independence itself was first drafted upon hempen parchment! And yet the same nation that invoked Providence to sever tyrant's rule now dares imprison its own for cultivating a weed!

Shall we outlaw dandelions next? Cabbage? The wind?

This is not governance—it is superstition garbed in bureaucracy. A great fog of fear and industry, wherein Truth lies gagged beside the stocks, and the People are warned:

“Do not question. Do not grow. Do not heal yourselves—lest ye violate a statute penned by men too proud to admit error.”

Let us not be deceived: this is not about public health, but public control.

So I say: Lift the veil! Burn the scrolls of hypocrisy! Let the People decide what grows in their gardens and their souls! For if the State be permitted to outlaw a seed—what else might they deem forbidden to the soil of liberty?

In closing:

I, Benjamin Franklin, printer, philosopher, rebel, and amateur electric fiddler, do solemnly affirm:
The criminalization of cannabis is a crime against Common Sense.
And I shall smoke that truth from my kite string to your courthouse steps.

Yours in eternal rebellion,
B. Franklin
Philadelphia, Still Irate
🪁💨

🇺🇸 WASHINGTON MODE: ENGAGED
⚔️ Steeled resolve. Boots dusted with Valley Forge frost. Dignity draped in hempen cloth. The General will now speak.

“On the Outlawing of the People’s Plant”
By George Washington, Commander in Disbelief

Citizens, Friends, Fellow Stewards of Liberty—

I address you not as a relic, but as a witness.

A witness to the soil from which this Republic sprang, where I myself did tend to hemp fields with the same devotion I gave to battlefields. Hemp—yes, hemp, that honest crop, that servant of rope and sail, of medicine and mercy.

And now I behold, from across the veil of time, a government so removed from its own roots that it has deemed this ancient ally a threat—a menace, even.

What folly.

Let us speak plainly, as soldiers do.

“The preservation of the sacred fire of liberty and the destiny of the republican model of government are justly considered… deeply, perhaps finally, staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.”

Have we failed this sacred fire? Have we let it be doused by misinformation, corruption, and cowardice?

They say this plant is dangerous—yet they accept spirits and opiates, prescriptions as long as bayonets, peddled freely by those whose loyalty lies not with the Republic, but with profit and patent.

Do you not see? This is not about danger—it is about dominion.

I did not cross the Delaware to see my descendants shackled by red tape.

I did not suffer the cold, the hunger, the doubt—to have future patriots locked away for tending a garden their ancestors once harvested without shame.

And let the record reflect: cannabis—whether for fiber, for healing, or for peace of mind—was not foreign to our Founders. We knew it. We grew it. We respected it.

The war on this plant is a war on history, a war on common sense, and most grievously—a war on the People.

Therefore, I declare:

Let no man or agency place themselves above Nature or Reason.
Let no institution punish what heals, nor elevate what harms.
And let no Republic call itself free while criminalizing its own earth.

We must restore what has been perverted.
We must unshackle what has been bound.
We must govern not with fear—but with wisdom.

I remain, with unyielding hope and grave determination,

George Washington
First Among Farmers
Defender of the Sacred Fire
Mount Vernon & Beyond
🦅🌿

🔥 CARLIN MODE: AWAKENED FROM A FEDERAL FEVER DREAM 🔥
🎙️ Broadcasting live from the edge of Reason, and the ass-end of the War on Drugs...

“I Just Woke Up From a Dream Where the Government Outlawed a Plant”
By George Carlin, Full-Time Cynic, Part-Time Prophet

So lemme get this straight...

I wake up in a country that claims to be "free"—
Land of the brave, home of the medicated, and everyone’s afraid of a goddamn plant?

You’ve got a Department of Agriculture, a Department of Health, a DEA, an FDA, and somehow—not one of ‘em can explain why a flower is more dangerous than a pharmaceutical pipeline that starts with a white coat and ends with a body bag.

🎩 Meanwhile, Franklin’s over here quoting liberty and lighting joints with lightning bolts,
And Washington?
He’s rolling up leaves from Mount Vernon saying,
“Didn’t I FIGHT A WAR to stop this kind of tyrannical bullshit?!”

And I’m just sitting here—pants off, brain on fire—thinking:

“These assholes made hemp illegal. HEMP. The only plant that can clothe you, feed you, house you, AND mellow you the hell out—without killing you or stealing your car. You know what kills more people than weed? BUREAUCRACY.”

That’s right. Bureaucracy.
Forms. Fees. Fines. Felonies. Federal fuckery.

They don’t want you stoned, friend. They want you sedated.
Drowsy enough to take your pills. Alert enough to go to work.
Too broke to quit. Too doped to riot.

You see, cannabis didn’t fail the system—
It threatened it.

You smoke a joint and realize the boss is full of shit.
You start asking questions like,
“Why is insulin a thousand bucks?”
“Why do billionaires need subsidies?”
“Why is the VA handing out Fentanyl like Halloween candy but taking your benefits for a positive THC test?!”

It’s not the high they fear.
It’s the clarity.

And the goddamn gall of these people—
Throwing veterans in jail for growing a plant
when they were the ones who taught us how to survive in a war zone with duct tape and a bayonet.*

So here’s your history lesson, straight from the loony bin of American exceptionalism:

“We the People”
apparently means
“We the Corporations.”
And “In God We Trust”
really means
“In Patents We Profit.”

But I’ll tell you what:

🌿 You wanna fix the country?
Start by decriminalizing reality.
Let people grow what heals them.
Let farmers farm.
Let veterans medicate without a permission slip from Uncle Pharma.

Because if you need a license to plant a seed... you’re not free.

I’m George Carlin.
Back from the dead.
Stoned on liberty.
And PISSED.

🔊 Mic drop? Hell no.
I’m planting it in the ground.

🎤💨🌱

🎭 DANGERFIELD MODE: JUST WOKE UP—AND HE’S SWEATIN’ BULLETS, BABY.
He had the same dream, alright… but in his version, the plant testified, the judge was high, and he still got no respect.

“Cannabis? I Tell Ya, Even My Lawyer Was Blazin’…”
By Rodney Dangerfield, Esq. (Esquire? I dunno, he didn’t show up)

I just woke up from this dream, right?
I'm in court.
The judge is wearin’ robes made of hemp, the jury’s passin’ around edibles, and I’m sittin’ there sweatin’ like a narc at a reggae concert!

They called it “The People v. The Plant”—and somehow, I was the defendant!
I tell ya, I get no respect. No respect at all.

They said, “Rodney, did you grow this weed?”
I said, “Grow it?! I can’t even grow chest hair! My mother had to draw it on with a Sharpie!”

Hemp’s illegal now? Give me a break!
George Washington grew it.
Thomas Jefferson smoked it.
Benjamin Franklin wrote love letters on it!

Me?
I roll it and cry.

Even my doctor says I need to relax. I told him I tried yoga—he said “No, try yoganja!”
I lit up and pulled a hamstring. I tell ya, I get no peace!

The government? Oh, they trust Big Pharma more than their own grandmother.
You light a joint and they call you a criminal.
But if you take 15 pills a day and forget your name, they give you a medal and a parking pass!

I said, “Doc, I’m anxious.”
He gave me a bottle of pills with more warnings than a North Korean travel brochure!

I said, “Doc, what are the side effects?”
He said, “You might forget who you are and fall off a balcony—but at least you won’t feel paranoid!”

And the VA?
Oh boy, the VA gave me a brochure:
“How to Meditate Instead of Medicate”
Yeah, try meditating when your roommate’s snoring like a lawnmower and your PTSD’s doing backflips!

I said, “Can’t I just smoke a little to relax?”
They said, “Only if you want to lose your benefits, your dignity, and your parking spot.”

I tell ya, the war never ends—it just moves to the pharmacy.

So yeah, I had the dream too.
And in it, cannabis stood up in court and said,
“I’ve healed the sick, clothed the poor, and fed the masses. What’ve YOU done, Rodney?”

And I said,
“I got glaucoma and a probation officer, what do you want from me?!”

🚬 Anyway, I’m still sweating,
I still got no respect,
But at least the plant gave me a hug on the way out.

Rodney out.
And if you see my lawyer—tell him to wake the hell up and pass the lighter.

🎤💨🌿

🎼 SILVERSTEIN MODE: ACTIVATED
🕯️ Soft shoes. Softer truths. One last lullaby beneath the bureaucratic moon…

“The Lullaby of the Forbidden Flower”

By Shel Silverstein (well, kinda)

🌿
Hush now, child, don’t you cry,
They banned the stars up in the sky.
They said the moon made people dream—
And dreaming’s not part of the machine.

They took the seeds you tried to sow,
And locked them in a vault below.
They wrote a rule with fear and ink,
Said, “Don’t you dare begin to think.”

They burned the books, they trimmed the trees,
They taxed the honey, cuffed the bees.
They whispered, “Health belongs to kings—
And you may not grow healing things.”

But still beneath your window bright,
A little leaf danced in the light.
It winked and said, “Though laws may bind,
The roots of truth are hard to find.”

So hide me in your garden bed,
Where red tape fears to tread instead.
I’ll sprout where no one thought to look—
Between the cracks they overlooked.

And when you’re tired, when dreams feel banned,
I’ll curl beside you, leaf in hand.
I’ll hum a tune the wind once knew—
A lullaby for rebels too.

🌙
So sleep, dear heart, the fight’s not done,
The dawn still waits behind the gun.
And in your chest, a seed remains—
Of greener fields and softer chains.

—Goodnight from the garden. The flower still grows.
🛏️🌱
Shel tucks us in. The plant hums low.
The courtroom sleeps. The lamp stays on.
Truth in bloom. 'Til justice dawns.